


Let Me In

by BipolarMolar



Series: Letting In The Love [2]
Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: Bath Sex, Caring!Brendan, Fluff(sort of), Hurt!Walker, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash, Masturbation, Slash, bathtime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-10
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-09 13:52:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/456185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BipolarMolar/pseuds/BipolarMolar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Let It Out. It’s not necessary to read Let It Out first. Might help though. Brendan still feels unsure due to the turmoil of Joel’s attack, but he knows he has to see Walker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Title: Let Me In**

**Author: BipolarMolar**

**Disclaimer: I make no money from this.**

**Summary: Sequel to Let It Out. It’s not necessary to read Let It Out first. Might help though. Brendan still feels unsure due to the turmoil of Joel’s attack, but he knows he has to see Walker.**

 

 

Actually, Joel recovered well. The one bright point of certainty in the grayscale of Brendan’s life (which had been shaken ever since that kiss-) was that Joel was fine. He’d avoided a prison sentence, his wounds would heal, hell, he may even prove to be a good partner. Couldn’t tell Cheryl of course, Brendan mused, lifting his favourite chess piece up to his eyes. In a dark suit, he was silhouetted against the harsh green lights behind the bottles at the bar. Alone, in Chez  Chez.

It felt strange to know that wherever Walker was, he didn’t have Brendan’s chess set with him.#

Drumming the rook on the bar, in a tuneless tattoo, his mind flipped back to his last look at Walker. That kiss. That kiss. Walker’s eyes, resigned. His hair, that jaw. Lips.

His hand became sore as his grip tightened on the little castle. He needed to see him. Explain himself.

 

**Tuesday, 18:36 pm**

 

 “You have reached the voicemail service for 07337282963. Please leave a message at the end of the tone.”

“Walker…it’s Brendan. Get in touch, alright? “

 

 

**Wednesday , 12:00 pm**

“You have reached the voicemail service for 07337282963. Please leave a message at the end of the tone.”

“Don’t run away from your problems, Walk-look, you left, without a note, that night at the hospital. Of course, Chez-Cheryl is pleased. She says you’re a bad influence on Joel.”

 

**Friday , Midnight**

“You have reached the voicemail service for 07337282963. Please leave a message at the end of the tone.”

“If I don’t get a reply in the next hour, I’m going to look for you. I’m going to find you, Walker.”

 

 

 

He’d asked around. Got in touch with some old clients, trying to look for the man with no ties, no people he cared about gravitated to. Brendan realised, with a jolt, he was the one person Walker gravitated to. Those days in Chez Chez, leading up to Joel’s accident, knocking back drinks, challenging each other. For some reason, as he searched every nook and cranny in the village, the one thought that was reinforced in his head, the one thought which never decayed, was that  

This was a long time coming.

 

Eventually, one lead led back to the house of a junkie. This was clearly the “Digs” that Walker had spoken of before. Brendan didn’t waste time.

One glance at the overgrown front garden and rusty gate hanging off his hinges, he strode up to the front door, rapping sharply at the rotting wood. The doorbell hadn’t worked(this was a long time coming) and if no  one answered(this was)-w ell, the door wasn’t that strong, he could kick it open (a long time-

“Coming!”

The yell cut through his thoughts like a scalpel through silk- Walker, that was Walker- why did he sound so………..?

The door reluctantly opened. And Brendan realised why Walker hadn’t answered him.

 

Walker was a wreck. There was no other word to describe it. Brendan was perfectly aware that he had seen worse injuries, he’d even inflicted worse injuries than this, but somehow it was different. It was Walker. Walker was …hurt.

What must have been an impressive black eye when it began still marred the skin around one bloodshot eye. Brendan’s eyes ran over his associate’s battered form, noticing everything, from the recent nosebleed to the cut lip, to the mottled purple of bruises swirling like tattoos over his lean limbs.

Walker wore an expression of utter disorientation, he didn’t immediately seem to recognise Brendan. Brendan took this opportunity to carefully step through the door, shutting it firmly behind them. Up close, Walker looked worse, if that was possible, his hair lank and hanging in his eyes.

A thudding beat thudded down from the floor above. Brendan ignored it, choosing to focus on getting a clear answer from Walker.

“Tell me. What’s going on here?”  His monotonous Irish drawl may have seemed expressionless and uncaring, but the way his eyes flickered along the shadowed corners of the room, his body instinctively moving closer to Walker’s, betrayed his concern.

Walker shook his head, wincing as he did so. Oddly it reminded Brendan of when Walker had walked up to The Loft, bag in hand, accidentally catching his arm on the doorjamb. He’d looked so different, so…vital. How could someone come out of prison in a better state than they were now?

“It’s…um…” Walker gestured to a couple of threadbare armchairs, padding over to them and collapsing onto the nearest. Brendan followed, although he didn’t sit. “Answer me, Walker.”

“Brendan…just a…turf war. Between lodgers.” Walker threw an arm over his eyes, presumably to shield his eyes from the harsh light pouring through the window.

The bruises painting his forearms caught Brendan’s attention. He leant down to the seated man, placing one hand over a set of bruises. His fingers covered the bruises well.  The bruises were in the shape of fingers, hands.

“This was no squabble between junkies, Walker. You tell me what happened or you won’t have to worry about them, you’ll have to worry about me. Am I making myself clear?”

Walker awkwardly rubbed his wrist. “A deal-”

“When?”

“Just under a week ago. Went badly…”

“I can see that.”

Brendan folded his arms. “You’re not staying here.” He gave Walker a moment to comprehend his meaning.

“Nice try but I’ve got nowhere else to go. Homeless, remember? ”Walker’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. Brendan stepped forward, steps soundless on the dirt-engrained carpet. “You’re coming with me. Now.”

And gripping Walker by the forearm (trying in vain to avoid touching his bruises)he hauled the man to his feet.

 

Having Walker in his home again was an odd sensation. The déjà vu he felt, seeing the man, leaning against the door, looking so hopelessly out of place. But it was different this time. Walker didn't attempt to threaten him, or even disagree. Clearly the fight (and as Brendan thought of someone punching and kicking Simon Walker, he felt the urge to throw a chair through the window) had drained Walker. He slumped against the wall, quiet and docile, not even protesting when Brendan informed him that he was going to take a look at the man's injuries.

 

Brendan ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, Walker trailing after him. He burst into the bathroom and began to run a bath.

 

"Strip," he said, riffling through the cupboards for the first aid pack Cheryl had insisted on him keeping. He knew his bar had one, but given the fights that went down in the village, it was badly under stocked. He huffed in irritation, noticing that Walker hadn't moved since he'd spoken.

 

"I mean it, Walker. I don't have time for games," he threw over his shoulder as he searched for towels. He could hear rustling and the occasional muffled sigh of pain as Walker removed his clothing but he didn't turn around. Judging the bathtub to be full enough, he carefully made his way to the door. He did it carefully because in the cramped little room, he only had to take a step back and he'd bump into Walker. Despite everything, the defeat that had dulled Walker's face, the cuts and bruises on his face, the thought of his body, bare and close enough to Brendan that if the other man reached out an arm they'd touch-it was too much. He felt a heat creeping up his neck and he inhaled sharply, bracing his forearms on the door, his forehead touching the wood.

 

A splash resounded throughout the little room, and Brendan resisted the urge to turn around. When he was sure that Walker was settled in the tub, he took a deep breath and approached the bath. Walker looked very small and pale, huddled underneath the bubbles, his shoulders hunched and his arms folded. Brendan knelt beside him, now clutching the first-aid kit.

 

"Let me look at those cuts" he said, trying to keep his voice soft. Walker let him, which again surprised Brendan. Patting at the angry red lines that marred the pale skin with a wet cloth, he tried to look anywhere but at Walker's bare chest, wet with water. Walker winced almost imperceptibly as Brendan applied the antiseptic.

 

"Brendan," Brendan didn't answer immediately, too intent on sterilising the cuts. When he looked up, he saw that Walker had leaned closer, far too close, so that his hair, the tips damp and curling, brushed against Brendan's cheek. Brendan met his eyes uncertainly. What do you want? He thought. Walker's eyes were wide, a faint flush on his skin brought on by the warmth of the water.

 

Brendan considered the man for a moment, and then decisively began to unbutton his shirt. The thin material had been clinging to his skin with sweat, and the bathwater that had overflowed. He was glad to peel the sodden fabric off his flesh. He was working on his trousers when he heard Walker say(in a rather breathless way that made him dizzy) "Why- why are you taking your clothes off?"

 

"You need comfort, Walker," he said as he kicked off his shoes. The comment was a reference to an earlier conversation, when Walker had kissed him. He knew Walker knew what he meant. "So take it." Now naked, throwing down the proverbial gauntlet, he climbed into the bath, the water sloshing at his knees, then his chest as he settled in besides Walker.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the slash! And some fluffiness. it's odd to write fluff about these two, but enjoy! And review.

There was awkwardness, no doubt about that as the two men’s eyes met, over the suds and scented water. It wasn’t particularly comfortable either; Walker’s back was pressed up against the taps, his legs folded to accommodate for Brendan’s long legs stretching across the length of the bath. 

But as Brendan sat back, with the warm water soft as a balm on his skin, with Walker’s gaze, (wary but almost hopeful) wide-eyed on his, he felt he’d done the right thing. He didn’t know what to do, possibilities were spread out before him in a network of questions, but he knew that expressing his uncertainty would only panic Walker.

He fumbled for the soap, without taking his eyes off Walker. The damn item slipped between his fingers for a moment but soon he had it in his grip. He began to lather it up between his hands, smirking at the splash as Walker brought his own hands to hover nervously at his chest, in a defensive motion.

“Don’t worry, it’s not for you. I’m in a bath; I might as well get clean.” Brendan said drily, smoothing the soap along his muscled arms. The motion was relaxing; repetitiveness seemed to massage his sore muscles, making him feel pliant but rejuvenated. Nobody could deny the sensuality of the act, the two of them naked, him massaging the soap onto his exposed flesh. The soft splash of the water and pleasant scent of the bubble bath did nothing to kill the mood.

“I-” Walker stuttered, his eyes closing. It was strange to see him so vulnerable. “I used to tell myself I was wrong to want this…”  
“And you denied it at first.” Brendan nodded, rinsing the soap off, unable to meet Walker’s eyes.  
“How did you know?” Walker’s full lips curved into a ghost of a smile, above the bubbles and water.  
“I’ve been there myself.” He said abruptly. He felt Walker’s gaze on his face.   
“I’m not meant to want this,” Walker gestured vaguely around, to signify the two of them. And whatever it was that they had. “I’m not meant to want-” he swallowed. “You.”

It was then that Brendan splashed his way forward and threw his arms around Walker. He would look back on this later as the moment that changed everything. Their dynamic, their relationship had been about power, and lust and violence. But now there was another feeling threading itself around the foundation of their connection and he didn’t know what to think of it. Without warning, he ground his mouth down on Walker’s, that strange pliant softness welcoming and dangerously addictive. Lust was demonstrating itself here, almost tangible and thick in the scented air and water, but there was a new thought, the thought that Walker had been hurt, and he, Brendan had to make sure that didn’t happen again. He buried his face in the other man’s neck, breathing into it and mouthing closed-lipped kisses onto the warm skin. Walker’s fingers scratched at his back, as if trying to bring him even closer than he already was. 

Without preamble, Brendan drew back; thrusting one hand in the water to touch Walker’s stiffening cock. Walker gasped, his eyes screwed up tightly, but leant back, bracing himself against the sides of the bathtub. Brendan took that as consent and trailing his hand along the shaft, squeezed it, his fingers automatically curling around the length.   
He was hard, the warmth of the water doing nothing to ease his discomfort but he wanted Walker to come, for Walker to feel pleasure. Leaning forward, he braced himself against Walker; the slimmer man still flush against the bath, and pressed their cocks together. The feeling of Walker’s length, hard and warm in the water, hard because of him, made him groan, but the friction was weak with the water between him. He began to touch them both, straddling Walker, on his knees. Each touch and pull made the man beside him moan, Walker was close to coming. As Brendan sped up his movements, pumping at his lover’s dick fervently, Walker’s lips parted, his eyes fixed on the ceiling above him and his expression…blissful. He came loudly, the cum mingling in the water immediately. That moment as he reached the peak, eyes wide and mouth open, an almost reverent adoration on his face was…beautiful. Brendan only wished he could capture it, immortalise it forever. Sheer pleasure personified. 

He ground down against Walker, avoiding his softening cock, knowing the stimulation would be uncomfortable now. Instead he fucked his hand, Walker’s lean hips deliciously hard against his flesh. When he spent, it was with his forehead resting on Walker’s shoulder, his legs spread as he came in his hand. It wasn’t particularly dignified, but it was without a doubt, satisfying. He allowed himself a few ragged breaths as he waited for his breathing to get back to normal. When he felt stable enough to move, he leant back, taking in Walker’s exhausted but sated body.

“I suppose we’re going to have to talk about this at length, discuss why and how this happened, what can be done about it. We can’t keep kidding ourselves this was just about taking comfort when stressed.” Walker said, running a tired hand through his hair.  
“That talk can wait, right?” Brendan asked, dropping a kiss onto Walker’s shoulder. The man looked surprised at the tender act, perhaps he’d been expecting to be dismissed the moment after climaxing. He took Walker into his arms again, exhaling heavily.  
“What are we going to do?” Walker murmured, voice muffled, his lips working their way on Brendan’s shoulder.

“We’re going to get dried off and dressed, find those eejits who beat you up, beat them up then go for a steak dinner. Ok?”  
“Sounds like a plan.” Walker grinned. Brendan looked at him and smiled.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> I’d love to do a Bralker fic where BB and SW are animals(Brendan being a wolf, Walker a greyhound- see I HAVE thought of this), or vampires etc. Something totally AU. What do you think? There is another Bralker one-shot which I’m working on currently, called Manners and Physique, plus a 5 Times one, so watch this space. Still waiting to see if M&P works out-it should include stripping, dry-humping and Walker riding Brendan. So business as usual. *clears throat* Would that be something you’d be interested in?
> 
> Btw, the bit that describes Walker’s orgasm-face as “Reverent” is inspired by the grenade scene in Hollyoaks. That look on his face, with his hair slicked back and his lovely lips parted in an “o” with that weird music playing, as Brendan dealt with the grenade really got to me. Walker looked beautiful then. Plus, he didn’t even leave Brendan’s side, even though they didn’t know if the bomb was genuine or not. I expect Walker’s up to something fishy though.  
> I was so glad to see Walker back on Hollyoaks. The village wasn’t the same without his loitering and sexy-shifty lizard eyes. And that dreadful coat. My goodness.  
> Please review 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading... why don't you review and light up my life a little? *winks* This is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine. I will edit out any typos at a later date.


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